A Potter by Any Other Name
by Gilana1 Nanashi and Lady Eve
Summary: Two days before the Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry learns something that turns his world upside, and things will never be the same. AU. Rating subject to change.
1. Accidental Mishap

Written by: Gilana1, Ashikada Nanashi, and Lady Eve.  
A/n: This story is AU. R/R! Rating subject to change.  
Disclaimer: We do not own this story, or any of its characters. Harry Potter and everything in it is owned by JK Rowling and Warner Bros. We only own the plot.

**Chapter 1**

The First Task of the Triwizard Tournament had come and gone, and Harry had come out on top, thought it had not been easy. The Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament had come and gone, and Harry was glad it was over with. Now, the Third Task was only a couple days away. The Boy Who Lived had been practicing every day, and had received daily letters from Sirius, giving him pointers and tips to try to get him through this. It would not be easy, and he knew whoever had put him through this was not doing it to be kind to him, or they would not have done it. Harry had not had an easy time since he had been announced as the fourth Triwizard Champion. The fight with Ron, the tasks themselves, asking a date out for the Yule Ball, finding one for that matter… Now, it was almost over.

The school year was ending. Before long, the Triwizard Tournament itself would be over, and someone would be proclaimed the winner. He didn't care if he won or not. The prize for winning was fortune and fame. Harry had enough fame to last him a lifetime. After all, he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Hero of the Wizarding World. Bah, all Harry wanted was to live a quite and to be left alone, but no. He was never so lucky. He wondered if he'd ever get used to his life never going the way he wanted. As for the fortune part… Harry had more money than he would ever spend in his lifetime. The last thing he needed was more money.

That morning, he got another letter from Sirius, giving him more pointers and tips to get him through the last task of Triwizard Tournament no worse for the wear. It made Harry feel good to know that Sirius cared about what happened to him, even though he knew he did. It was nice to get the letters from him. Ron and Hermione were concerned, as well, and every day during lunch, they practiced spells to help Harry in the Final Task a couple of days from now. Even though Harry felt he knew these spells, it didn't bother him to go and find more and practice them. Every little bit helped, and Harry was definitely in favor of coming out of the Last Task alive. He was very much in favor of that.

As the day came to close, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to their last class of the day – Potions with Professor Snape, which they all dreaded, as did every Gryffindor. It seemed as they sat down and the class began that Professor Snape was feeling particularly vindictive that day. It seemed he was having a bad day, or worse than usual. The potion he was asking them to make a rather hard potion, which he said was OWL level, but Harry had a feeling it was higher. Hermione, the ever diligent student, was quick to start her potion, and determined to do it right. Of course, Ron and Harry could not have cared less, as Snape would probably fail them no matter how well they did, so it didn't matter.

As it was, Harry had other things on his mind. He was more concerned with the Third Task coming up in a few days than whatever such-and-such Potion their dreaded Potions Master had them doing that particular day. Besides, as much as he hated Harry, he would have failed him away, no matter what. So why try? Especially when there were things that was more important to worry about. So, as could be expected, Harry was daydreaming. Every now and again, he'd add some ingredient, and stir it in. He wasn't pay attention at all. He didn't even really hear Hermione whisper his name, and tell him that he was stirring it the wrong way. He snapped out of his reverie, and looked at her. Of course, that was when Professor Snape took notice of what he was doing.

"Potter," Snape said, his voice cold, with an icy tone it, "stop daydreaming. Get to work." He looked down at the potion Harry had been doing. "A complete failure." He waved his wand, emptying the cauldron. "Start over." The dark-haired man walked away, his black cloak billowing behind him as he went over to insult Neville. Harry's green eyes followed him, before Hermione snapped him back to his own empty cauldron, and he slowly started adding the ingredients, all the while seething with hatred for his teacher. Did he ever hate that man…

Of course, Harry started daydreaming again. He never cared about Potions anyway, let alone two days before the Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione tried to get his attention again. He had failed to add an ingredient at the proper time. When he heard her voice, his head snapped to look at her, not for very along, only to hear something splash every so lightly into his cauldron. Harry looked back at it, and it wasn't too much longer when the potion in Harry's cauldron that he had been working on exploded all over him. His body began to burn, not just on the outside, but on the inside as well. If he had been thinking more clearly, that would have been strange, since his mouth had been closed at the time. But, at the moment, the only thing on the boy's mind was the seething pain he was in.

Snape walked over to him. "What is going on, Potter?" He asked harshly.

"Professor!" Hermione yelled. "He has to go to the Hospital Wing!"

Snape waved one of his long-fingered hands. "Go." He wiped the Potion out of Harry's cauldron, leaving only a small ball. Someone had thrown something into Potter's cauldron, making it explode. That did not explain the pain that Potter seemed to be going through. "Class dismissed. Wipe your cauldrons clean and go." With that, Snape walked briskly out of the room, heading towards the Headmaster's Office. Draco Malfoy had been the one to throw this object into the cauldron, of that Snape was sure. Snape was also sure that Albus would want to know what had happened to Gryffindor's Golden Boy.

Snape uttered the password once he reached the gargoyle statue that guarded Dumbledore's Office. He stepped inside, and let the stairs take him up. Once he reached the platform, he knocked once before going in. Albus looked up in surprise, as Severus should be in class right now. "Is something the matter, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. He had been sitting calmly at his desk going over things when Severus had burst through the door.

Severus relayed what had happened in class not too long ago. Albus sat there and listened as Severus told him what of what had transpired, his brows furrowed. "I found this in the bottom of Potter's cauldron after I wiped the Potion out," he said, holding up the ball between his long fingers in front of the Headmaster.

Albus raised his head. "Hmm… I wonder why someone would have that, and even if they did, the only reason they could have thrown it in was if they were intent on disrupting the other person's potion." Albus stated.

A wave of anger and annoyance rushed through Severus. "I have already figured that out on my own, Albus. Thank you very much," Severus said, his black eyes glittering with annoyance at the Headmaster. "I simply thought that you would like to know about your precious Potter."

"Indeed, and I thank you for bringing this to my attention, Severus," Albus told him. "You said that he seemed to be in great pain, correct?" Severus nodded, and Albus stood up. "Find out what spells that Draco Malfoy put on that Spell-o-sphere, and then come and see me. I will probably be in the Hospital Wing." Severus nodded curtly, and then they both swept out of the room. Severus headed to his office, and Albus headed towards the Hospital Wing to see Harry.

Once Albus arrived, Poppy had already sedated Harry. Even in Harry's sedated state, the old man could tell that the young boy was in great pain. Without any more information, Poppy could not tell Albus why he was in so much pain, and Albus would have nothing further to add until Severus got back to him to tell him what spells were on the Spell-o-sphere. Albus agreed to himself that he had a soft spot for the young boy. As time went on, Albus became increasingly more confused. He hoped Severus finished soon, he thought as he watched Harry as Poppy rushed back and forth, tending to the young boy. "This is most unusual," Albus said to Poppy, as he stood near Harry's bedside.

Poppy nodded, stopping her tending momentarily. "I don't think I have ever seen anything like this." She said no more and went back to tending to him, regardless. Yes, it was odd, but she was a nurse. It was her job to tend to her patients, and she would until she didn't have to anymore. It was only a shame that Harry was in here so often, for one thing or another.

Severus carefully examined the Spell-o-sphere, a smallish ball designed to hold certain spells and certain things' magical properties. He was slightly disappointed that this didn't help any, not that he cared what happened to Potter, but, after all, Potter had been in his class at the time. Anyway, Severus examined the ingredients and properties of the potion that they had been attempting in class, and looked at them both side by side. It didn't hit him at first, but then something jumped out at him. Of course, why had he not seen that sooner as soon as he had found out the properties of the ball? He was, after all, a Potions Master. Unfortunately, this didn't help matters either. Actually, this was quite confusing. Why would Draco Malfoy do this? If he had wanted to hurt Potter, there were much easier ways…

As it was, Severus had no time to sit here and think about this. He grabbed the ball, and quickly made his way to the Hospital Wing, where Poppy seemed to be tending to someone behind a closed curtain. Albus was on the side closest to him, and Severus could not see who was on the bed on the other side of the curtain. He knew it was Potter, of course. The sun was going further down in the sky. The man had not been aware of how much time he had spent in his office. He turned to the Headmaster. "Albus, with the properties on this," he said, holding up the ball in his fingers, "and those of the potion we were brewing in class today, some of them combine to create a very rough antidote to a Disguise Potion."

"You're sure? You're sure it's not a Disguise Potion itself or something else?" The old man asked his younger colleague.

"Yes, of course," Severus said, matter-of-factly. One could not doubt his skills or expertise in this area.

Albus' brows furrowed in confusion. "Well, that is most troubling…" It didn't help things at all.

"Why is that?" Severus asked, somewhat confused as to his reaction.

"Well, I was hoping that you could explain this." With that, the Headmaster pulled back the curtain of the bed, to reveal Harry Potter. Severus immediately jumped back, his eyes wide in shock.


	2. Behind the Curtain

**Chapter 2**

It was a few seconds before anyone spoke; the only sounds to be heard were the gentle ticking of a clock, and Severus' own ragged breathing. Staring wide-eyed at a sleeping Harry (Poppy had drugged him) Severus' eyes snapped to Albus' face. "Who the hell is that?" he hissed with some difficulty -- his chest was tight, and words were hard to form. Deep blue eyes bored into his own over half-moon spectacles. "_That_," Albus answered, gesturing with his right hand, "Is Harry Potter." What little color on Severus' pale face drained away at this revelation. He stared at Harry, disbelief etched into every line on his face, his lips moving in silent denial. Curiousity getting the better of him, the Potions Master inched his way slowly to the hospital bed. He stooped down, looking intently at Harry's face for a few seconds. When he straightened, he let out a curse. Albus looked at him. "Pardon?" he asked mildly. Severus didnt even look up. "Who the hell is this?" he asked the headmaster again.

"I told you," said Dumbledore calmly. "That is Harry Potter."

"I know you told me it was Potter," said the younger man, clearly distraught, "I just hoped that you were joking." Though, from the sound of his voice, it sounded like Severus knew full well that the headmaster had been serious. Still, Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Severus," he said gently. "I'm not joking."

Snape's hand trembled as he staggered back, seeking a chair to sink into but finding none. Thankfully, Albus conjured up a nice squishy armchair, and Severus gratefully sat. The man brought a shaking hand to his forehead, rubbing his brow as if that would make things sensical again. Dumbledore waited a few seconds before speaking, neither man noticing that the door to the hospital wing had opened.

"Severus," began the Headmaster. "Do you know how this could've happened?" Snape's head snapped up, eyes flashing. "If I did, would I be sitting here like this?" His voice rose in pitch, nearing hysterics. "I have no idea why this would've happened. None at all!" He buried his face in his hands, muttering to himself. Dumbledore remained silent, eyes traveling from Harry to Severus to Harry again.

Suddenly, Severus looked up, horror dawning on his visage, eyes widening to the size of saucers. "No..." he muttered, more to himself than anything. "It cant be..." the man trailed off.

"Ow!" someone muttered in a muffled voice. Neither man seemed to notice. "Severus," said Dumbledore sternly. "You know."

Throat dry and lips parched, Snape nodded curtly. "I think I do." Suddenly, his dark eyes turned to a fluttering curtain. "Weasley, Granger," Severus said coldly. "Leave. Now."

Silence.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, please do as Professor Snape asks." There was a pause, and then a muffled groan. Out of nowhere, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley materialized next to the curtain Snape had looked at. Ron opened his mouth to protest,, but one look from Dumbldore silenced him. Besides, Hermione was already tugging on his arm, leading him from the room. With a defeated sigh, Ron followed, and the two left, none the wiser.

Madam Pomfrey shut the door firmly after them and locked it. Dumbldore nodded his appreciation, and waved his wand. "Just a precaution, Poppy dear," he added, noting her curious look. "Dont want any unwelcome ears listening."

Poppy nodded, eyes locked on Harry's still form. "Headmaster," she whispered, "has Snape been able to explain...?" Dumbledore motioned for her to be silent --- Snape had looked up again, and he seemed ready to speak.

Wordlessly, Dumbledore conjured up a glass and filled it with water. Poppy took it to Snape, who accepted it gratefully with trembling hands. He took a long draught, swalling audibly. "Okay," he muttered, seemingly steeling himself. "There's only one explaination I can think of to explain this. Just one..."

Poppy looked at Severus expectantly; Dumbledore merely looked mildly interested. Coughing unnecessarily, Snape continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I was stupid. Foolish. Young." Poppy looked lost; Snape continued. "It was during Voldemort's reign of power; I, being a careless youth in with the Death Eaters, had made a foolish mistake. I was sure I was going to die at the hands of my Master -- no, more likely at the hands of another Death Eater. I decided to throw caution to the wind, and live the remaining hours of my life however I damn well pleased. After all, I was going to die soon anyway.

"I wandered around town for a few minutes, not thinking clearly at all, when I stumbled into a noisy bar. Though I'm not usually the type to get sloshed, I figured that death would be more welcome after a few drinks. I sat down at the bar, and ordered the biggest, most potent thing they had.

"I noticed a young woman, about my age, sitting next to me. She was knocking back drinks like a lush, her red hair jerking back with each shot she downed. At first, I paid her no nevermind, but then after a few rounds myself, I decided to chat her up. She reciprocated, and I have no idea what happened next.

"The only thing I remember is waking up in a rather large bed the next morning (not mine, I might add) with the worst headache ever, and just feeling generally exhausted. I rolled over -- and came face to face with Lily Evans -- actually, Potter. Lily Potter.

"We stared at each other, wide-eyed, noting that the other had...er...no...er... no... erm, clothes...er...on...er..." Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat, an uncharacteristic flush rising to his cheeks. Poppy's mouth scraped the floor, and Albus looked ready to burst into laughter, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. Snape glared. "It's not funny," he said tersely.

"Anyway, as I was saying, Lily and I came face to face, and I think we realized what had probably happened at the same time, because we both leapt out of bed and as far away from each other as wsa possible in the room. Unfortunately, we were both still...erm...unapparelled, and it made for a rather uncomfortable moment.

"To make a very awkward moment short, we both agreed to never speak of the event again. She went back to being James Potter's wife, and I back to my post as a Death Eater. Somehow, my mistake had be either overlooked or purposely ignored, for no order came for my death.

"I can only presume that the night Evans -- Lily Potter, that is -- and I so desperately tried to forget resulted in this. I had honestly forgotten all about it...but now, there's no denying."

Snape looked at Dumbledore; Poppy clasped her hands to her mouth and murmured, "Oh, it's just like a romance novel!" Severus glared at her, annoyed. "Oh yes, so romantic," he drawled sarcastically.

Dumbledore's saphire eyes bored into Severus' intensly. "So, what you're saying is..." the headmaster seemed to be having some difficulty absorbing the information. The dark-haired man nodded once, curtly. "Yes. Harry Potter...is not James Potter's son." His gaze moved to Harry's taking in all the changes that had occurred-- and were continuing to surface. His skin had become slightly paler, his lightning-shaped scar had stretched to resemble a scar more normal-looking. His ebony locks had lengthened; his facial features were sharper, though with a subtle grace.

Poppy looked from Harry to Snape to Harry again, her eyes brightning in comprehension. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh! Oh!" Dumbledore tugged his beard gently. "Now, dont go telling anyone, about this, Poppy, my duck." The nurse looked at him, scandalized. "Definitely. Besides, who would believe me if I told them that Harry Potter was Severus Snape's son!?"

An awkward moment of silence passed, broken by the sounds of Harry stirring in his bed. Dumbledore looked at Severus, alarmed. "Perhaps you should go try and find...something..." said the headmaster vaguely. "You dont have to tell me twice." With that, Snape stood and stalked out of the hospital wing, black robe fanning out majestically as he exited.

"Owww..." Harry groaned, sitting up. "Damn, this hurts." He grimaced, then frowned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose -- only to find, that he no longer needed them. "Bloody hell...?" he murmured. "What did Malfoy do to m---" he cut himself short. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were standing in front of him, looking rather grave. Well, Dumbldore at least. Pomfrey looked like she had discovered gold. Suddenly, Harry felt a tickle on his cheek. He brushed a strand of hair aside --- wait, what?

He grabbed his hair, realizing with much confusion that it was now more than twice as long as it had been when he woke up that morning. "Bloody effing hell," he repeated, adding a third obscenity. Then, he looked at his hands. "Wha--?" His fingers were longer than this morning too. What the _hell_ did Malfoy do to him? "Bloody effing bloody hell!" Harry finally exclaimed, realizing that he had grown as well. The hospital beds, which previously had been just right in length, were now too small. Blinking his emerald eyes at the nurse and Headmaster, he voiced his question again. "What did Malfoy do to me?" he demanded. Then blinked. "Is that my voice? Is that... _my_ voice?" By George, his voice was at least an octave deeper too!

"Well," Dumbledore said, tugging on his beard once more. "It's not exactly what Mr. Malfoy did to, but rather, _un_did." The young man looked at the Headmaster with a look that told him to explain further. The old man cleared his throat. "It seems that you were under some sort of disguise spell-potion combination, which was reversed by the potion Mr. Malfoy threw into your cauldron during potions today, by means of a Spell-O-Sphere." Pomfrey wordlessly handed him a mirror, and Harry gaped at his reflection in shock. "What the bloody effing hell?" he repeated for the fourth time in a span of a few minutes. "No way. No way." Dumbledore bowed his head briefly. "I'm afraid so."

"I look like Snape!" he shouted, flinging the mirror down on the floor, where it shattered into millions of pieces. "Well," said Dumbledore again. "That would make sense, considering you are apparently his son."

It was as if all the air had been knocked out of Harry's lungs, much like the time a bludger had caught him in the stomach during quidditch practice. "I'm _WHAT?_" he demanded, voice cracking. "_WHAT?!?_ Nononononononononononono. No. NO! Not bloody possible! " And yet, it was hard to deny, him looking the way he did. But...but... What?

"Someone please tell me I'm dreaming, or that this is a really, really, crappy joke Fred and George are putting me through." His eyes pleaded, staring at the adults desperately.

"I'm afraid not, Harry," said Dumbledore gently. "Apparently, Professor Snape and your mother had a bit of a drunken nights' stay together, and you seem to be the result. As far as I can gather at this stage, Lily somehow disguised you to look more like James through a combination of charms and potions, which I dont quite know yet. But, undeniably, you are Severus' son. Not James'."

Harry shook his head in mute disbelieve. He refused to let the image of his father, James Potter, change. His world was tumbling down on his ears, and it was all he could do not to cry. As a matter of fact, forget that. Tears streamed freely down Harry's face at the loss of James, of his respect for his mother, and at the lost of himself, his identity.

Pomfrey sat next to him, her generously propotioned body sagging the edge of the bed a bit. She offered him a steaming cup of something, procured from thin air, which Harry took with shaking hands. "Get some rest, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Try and sleep."

"Sleep?" repeated the boy incredulously. "Sleep? How can I possibly sleep after I find out that my father isnt my father, and instead is some prat of a Potions Master?!" The headmaster ignored his namecalling, but crossed over to Harry's bedside. "I know it's hard, but you have to try. Just try to sleep, Harry, and we'll talk about it in the morning. Poppy? If you'll excuse me. I suggest that you keep this area by Harry's bed off-limits for a while, to avoid...ah...well, you know. Not a word, Poppy. Not a word." With that, Dumbledore swept away.

Pomfrey patted Harry's head. "Drink up," she instructed. Harry did, and within seconds, his head sunk back down to his pillow as he fell into a deep, dreamless, restless slumber.


End file.
